Heaven Help!
by Electric Light Shadow Boxer
Summary: Crack! Seriously. There are soulmates and then there are Soulmates. But there's just one slight problem.


TITLE: Heaven Help!

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: PG

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. All characters you recognize belong to Electric Entertainment and all those you don't belong to me. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: Crack! Seriously. There are soulmates and then there are Soulmates. But there's just one slight problem.

WARNINGS: Where do I start! First, this is crack. In no way is it meant to be taken seriously or express the author's views on religion, theology, or same-sex partnerships. You have been warned! Oh! And there's a sneak reference to the Evil Dead. See if you can spot it!  
THANKS: Huge thanks goes to Piratekit. This story is the direct result of a conversation with her so all credit goes to her for the idea!

God groaned and signed off on the last request for more rain in Albuquerque and less rain in Portland before standing and stretching out his muscles. It irked him that he still had to do paperwork. Shouldn't the ultimate power be able to get out of that? But, no, it seemed that paperwork was the one universal invariant that even he couldn't change. Well, that and the fact that no matter what he did a Wal-Mart popped up in every single town.

There were always requests coming in from all over the universe. He found it amusing that the people called them prayers, supplications, or, if you lived on the planet Phlebrock, xhdkosus. Personally, he called them work. Every prayer, supplication, and xhdkosus had its own forms and requisite paperwork. His inbox was always overflowing.

She snorted and shook her head as she straightened a picture of her son on the wall. And here her creations thought she used the seventh day to rest. No, the seventh day had been used to catch up on the overflow of paperwork caused by the creation.

And then there had been that mess with the Ice Age. She'd been swamped for a Candarian week with the paperwork that had caused.

Straightening his robes, he left the office and made his way to his throne. It was time for the Heavenly Chorus and he always liked to be on time. Angels could be so ill-tempered if you kept them waiting. Besides, Jesus had been off visiting Ireland again for the last thousand years and he wanted some time to catch up with him.

"God, Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but I thought it best to catch you before you sat down to listen to the Heavenly Chorus."

God sighed and nodded, turning back to the office. Great, now she was going to have to listen to the angels complain when she went to have lunch. "Well, come on, Nicholas, let's see what you've got for me."

God led the patron saint of thieves back to his office and took a seat behind his desk, catching some of the paperwork as it tried to fall. "What's the problem? Adolf trying to sneak back inside the gates?"

Nicholas sat down in the chair that didn't have books piled in it and looked down at the clipboard that he was holding. "No, Ma'am, he's stayed away since last time. Our problem is that we have two souls waiting to be born that are soulmates."

God nodded, brows drawing low over her eyes. "So what's the problem? Love is a beautiful thing. Let them be born and start their journey."

Nicholas shifted in his seat and shook his head. "Well, see, that's the problem. These two souls are very special. Each one on their own is very dangerous and . . ."

God held up his hand. "Wait, how dangerous are we talking about. I assumed since it was you coming to see me that these two were destined to become thieves. We don't have another Adolf and Stalin do we?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Overall these two souls are good and they will do a lot of good for others, but they are still dangerous. For a while there was debate about whether they should be allowed to be born at all because together they are quite frightening. But, after much debate, risk-benefit analysis, and hours of paperwork it has been decided that the risk is worth the benefit."

God shrugged his shoulders and looked at his watch. "Ok, and the problem comes in where?"

Nicholas leaned forward, face a little pale. "Under no circumstances should these two souls be allowed to reproduce. The results would be…" He shivered. "The results would be catastrophic."

Steepling her hands, God looked down at the desktop. "Just how catastrophic are we talking about?"

Nicholas licked his lips and shook his head. "The results would be worse than Nagasaki and Chernobyl combined. The world would be destroyed or completely dominated. At this point I can't be sure which. As the patron saint of children and thieves, I strongly urge against letting them procreate."

God arched her brow and leaned back in her chair again. "And since this is such a problem I am assuming it has been foreseen that neither of them will be born infertile." She sighed and pulled another form toward herself. "I have the solution. Don't worry about it."

Nicholas stood and nodded. "Good. I'm sorry to have taken your time, but as you know, all such changes must go through you." He paused on his way out the door and stepped back in, shaking his head. "I almost forgot. Cecilia, the patron saint of musicians gave me this for you."

God took the CD and grinned. "Oh, Voltaire has done another one. He always amuses me. Tell her I said thank you. Oh, and remind me to bless him with youth and longevity." Sighing, he pulled the requisite form for that and put it under the ones he was currently working on for the reassignment.

A year later in a Boston hospital, Jimmy Ford sat in the waiting room watching the crappy reception on the old set and drinking watery coffee while he waited for news on their latest kid. When the nurse came to tell him he could go see his wife and son he blinked and climbed out of the chair.

In the hospital room he looked down at the tiny red infant with the shock of black hair. He might be a cute kid after he was cleaned up. Looking at Margie, his wife, he shook his head. "I thought you said you were having a girl?"

She looked up at him with tired eyes. "What? A woman can't be wrong? Besides, I thought you'd be thrilled. You finally got your son."

Jimmy looked at the kid as he lay in the blankets in Margie's arms. "Boy, so I get to name him. We'll call him James. James Ford Jr."

Margie glared at him. "James can be his middle name. We'll call Nathan. It's a good biblical name." She looked down at her son and smiled at his blue eyes. "And when he grows up he can be a priest. Make his mother proud."

Jimmy looked down at the boy and opened his mouth to object, but Margie's glare stopped him. "Nathan Ford. Alright, I suppose it will do. We can call him Nate."

A few years later Michael Spencer sat in a Tennessee hospital and looked at his watch. His daughter was at a neighbor's house and he was stuck here waiting for Evelyn to give birth to their next child. Sighing, he dug through the hospital magazines one more time, looking for something interesting that wasn't months old already.

When the nurse came to tell him he could go see his wife and son he stood, and made his way down the hall to her room. When he entered, he came to the bedside and looked down at the little runt. He was red faced and bald, all wrinkly and looked nothing like him. "Well, at least it's a boy this time."

Evelyn smiled down at her son, running her hand softly over his head. She cooed at him when he opened his blue eyes. "He's beautiful. I'm calling him Eliot after my father."

Michael snorted and sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Eliot's a sissy's name."

Evelyn glared at her husband and shook her head. Looking down at her baby boy, she smiled and kissed his forehead. "Eliot Spencer. You'll grow up to make your mother proud."

*THE END*

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The changing pronouns for God were done on purpose.


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